During our recent west coast vacation, I played golf with my friend, Plato, at his country club on Whidbey Island.
A total of 45 holes over three days.
Plato warned me that the course was challenging. It was likely I would score higher than usual.
He was correct.
I shot 116 on the first day. I shot a 110 on the second day. I shot 50 for nine holes on the third day.
But Plato also warned me that the greens were exceptionally challenging. “You will three and four-putt a lot.”
“Four putt?” I said. “I don’t think so.” I may not be an excellent golfer, but I am a better-than-average putter and can’t remember the last time I four-putted a hole.
Even three-putts are a rarity for me.
“Okay, Matt,” Plato said, confident that he would be proven correct.
Over the course of 45 holes, I had a total of five three-putts.
I also had eight one-putts.
I had zero four-putts.
In total, I putted 87 times for 45 holes. Less than two putts per hole.
In short, I putted the ball exceptionally well. In fact, I probably putted better than usual because it turns out that one of the best ways to motivate me is spite:
Tell me I can’t do something, and watch me try like hell to do it.
It’s not my most endearing trait. My love for the words “I told you so” is unfortunate, but it’s real. For most of my life, I have tried like hell to prove people wrong.
When no adult spoke the word “college” to me throughout my entire school career, I decided to prove them wrong for ignoring me and find my way to earning a college degree.
When an administrator laughed at me during a job interview for wanting to someday “Write for a living and teach for pleasure,” I decided to prove her wrong. Today, I continue to teach – even though retiring from the profession and pursuing my writing and consulting business would be more profitable – because I love teaching and love kids.
I’m happy to collect a paycheck for teaching, but I’m now doing it because I love it.
I teach for pleasure.
I don’t remember that administrator’s name or where she worked, but she’s been on my horizon for years. I’ve been chasing her down, even though she has no idea I’ve been doing so.
On the television show The Bear, Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto becomes the best chef at the best restaurant in the world.
Why?
In Carmen’s own words, his brother, Mike, refused to let him work or even enter his restaurant, so he left home to prove his brother wrong and became one of the best chefs in the world as a result.
Spite. The desire to prove someone wrong. It’s a fictional story, but the sentiment and motivation are true to life.
Quarterback Tom Brady was drafted in the sixth round of the 2000 NFL draft with the 199th pick. Six quarterbacks were drafted ahead of him. He went on to become one of the greatest quarterbacks in NFL history.
Brady acknowledges that he played with a chip on his shoulder for most of his career. His draft position – 199 – fueled his fire for over two decades and made him want to be the best.
Spite. The desire to prove someone wrong.
Plato was the same person who told me, “No one can write a good book before the age of 40.”
My first novel, Something Missing, was reviewed favorably in the New York Times, the Houston Chronicle, Kirkus Book Review, and many others. It has a 4.2/5.0 rating on Amazon.
I published that book at age 38. To Plato’s credit, he acknowledged that I had proven him wrong.
Spite is highly motivating, at least for me, and I felt it on that golf course last week. My focus while putting was better than ever, and Plato wasn’t wrong. The greens are challenging. Many of my additional strokes came from approach shots and pitch shots landing on the green and rolling off. I chipped over and back and over again on more than one hole.
I also forgot how to hit the driver for stretches of time, too, and I lost at least half a dozen balls because I lacked awareness of the course. Water that was closer than I thought. Out-of-bounds markers that I didn’t see.
I played poorly at times, which is evident from my scores, but I putted the hell out of the ball over the three days mainly because I am a spiteful jerk. I wasn’t keeping track of my score on any of the rounds we played – Plato took care of that chore – but I was keeping track of my putts.
I don’t think this works for all people. Many people respond differently to doubt or a lack of encouragement. Rather than seeing it as a challenge, I suspect that doubt hurts most people. And I don’t think it’s the best way to increase performance. I would’ve much preferred my parents and teachers to encourage me to pursue college, for example, and had they done so, I may have found my way to higher education sooner.
My desire to prove the world wrong helped me succeed, but support and encouragement would’ve probably produced the same results.
But for certain people, telling us that we can’t do something, we aren’t worthy, or we won’t amount to much can light a fire that can burn with the heat of a thousand suns.
